


The Discussion

by TheOutgriber



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Agatha is mentioned, Could be pre-Hackle, Declarations of confidence, F/F, How does magical society even work, Internalized Homophobia, Pre-Canon, day-to-day school matters, either way, rest assured, they're gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOutgriber/pseuds/TheOutgriber
Summary: After an incident in the corridor, Hecate and Ada have a heartfelt argument, tidy the office, and try to plan a sexuality seminar. Set a few weeks after Agatha has left her position.





	The Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> This work references homophobia and implied transphobia, along with bad theology and theories of general societal grossness, so read with self-care. Additionally, it incorporates some ideas that fall under the Pagan umbrella but are somewhat adapted for this speculative universe. No disrespect of real Pagans intended.

Ada stands in the middle of her office, feeling useless. This is a sorry attempt at re-organizing if there ever was one. Every misplaced item reminds her of what could have been but simply isn’t. On her desk is a small wooden box in which a brass nameplate engraved with ‘Miss Agatha Cackle’ rests on a bed of black velvet. Ada put it there over an hour ago, but the sun has slipped below the horizon and she hasn’t yet closed it. 

She looks at her own chair. Its carved owls gaze out at her in reproach. Twins. The portrait of the two sisters stands propped against the wall. It isn’t even that old. Ada hasn’t yet decided whether to remove it from display entirely. This was supposed to be their office, hers and Agatha’s, but that went dreadfully wrong. It’s taken weeks of scrambling and shuffling to get the school back to a sense of equilibrium. Clearing Agatha’s things out of the office is one of the last remaining jobs. It should be easy. Funny how after managing fairly well with the complexities of the fallout, this is the task that sends her into a dither. 

Maybe she’d better fortify the anti-breaking spells on the bay windows. But that’s unnecessary, Hecate will say; she’s already reinforced the windows, the doors, anything that opens or breaks in this castle. Dear Hecate, who rose to the occasion when she was, essentially, asked to dance attendance on not one but two fledgeling headmistresses, who did so with barely a complaint until Agatha went too far. Hecate, who stood by Ada, silent and steady, as she tearfully told Agatha that she would have to leave. 

Someone knocks at the door, and Ada starts. “Come in,” she calls, running a hand through her hair, and Hecate herself enters stiffly. She pauses a few steps in, eyebrows furrowed. “Headmistress.” 

“Good evening, Miss Hardbroom,” she responds, suppressing a nervous giggle. Hecate’s caught her at an odd moment, and the honorific makes her slightly giddy. “I realize the room’s in a bit of a mess.” 

That’s an understatement, as Hecate’s wandering eyes affirm. The office looks like a summoning spell gone wrong. Pendell’s round here somewhere, shewdly keeping out of the way, Ada guesses. Agatha’s half-read papers litter the floor. Books teeter in precarious towers. Glass from figurines that Agatha smashed mingles with forbidden plants and other suspect odds and ends, a backlog of hastily vanished objects now exposed. 

“I thought I’d do some Spring cleaning, now the term’s winding down and the students are off to their own studies,” Ada says, trying for cheer.  
Hecate nods, still gravely statuelike. 

Ada had indeed thought to spend an hour or two clearing it out, but she hasn’t quite managed to do much of anything other than reminisce and fret. Probably not the most impressive showing for her meticulous deputy. 

“Do sit down,” she says, flicking papers out of the way to give Hecate a path to the armchairs. With a minute gesture, Hecate waves them into a stack three feet tall. They sit by the fire, Hecate perching on the edge of her chair only after Ada is seated. Trust Hecate to stand on ceremony after all they’ve been through. 

“Good evening, I hope? No disasters?” Ada asks, knowing that there will have been at least one. Hecate has handled a lot of the day-to-day discipline since the Cackle sisters took over. The corresponding uptick in detentions and line assignments speaks for itself. Hecate insisted on thorough discipline throughout the whole Agatha ordeal, and Ada believes that the girls have profited from the consistent structure, though her own approach is decidedly less punitive. 

Hecate is silent. “Small disasters?” No response. Ada pours tea for both of them. As the silence stretches on, Ada suspects that, in her Agatha-induced reverie, she may have missed something vital. She nudges the saucer in Hecate’s direction. 

“Hecate.” 

“They were kissing,” Hecate says without preamble. 

“Pardon?” Ada says, leaning forward. 

“Two of the older girls. In the corridor of all places,” Hecate answers. 

“Were they of age?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did it seem coercive?” 

“No. But very ill-advised,” Hecate says, her voice wooden. 

Ada exhales. “Oh.” And laughs. Just two girls caught up in the moment, she expects. After working so long to foster a sense of safety for the girls, to undo the damage Agatha inflicted with her mercurial pedagogy, she had feared the worst. Such a mundane problem is almost a relief. 

A relief that Hecate, hands clenched in her lap and eyebrows drawn together, clearly does not share. 

“Kissing, Ada!” she hisses. “Our girls! And who knows what else they’re doing.” Her mouth twists. 

Ada nods, slightly bemused, and removes her dusty spectacles, ready to ask some more clarifying questions, but Hecate is on a roll. 

“This is an academic institution,” Hecate says, as though Ada needs to hear it. “Of age or not, students can’t be permitted to...skulk about kissing. Such a flagrant disregard for protocol is unacceptable; we—you—Cackles has a reputation to maintain—” 

“That it does,” Ada cuts in. “Polish these, will you?” she says, holding out the glasses.

Hecate gapes, clearly thrown off by this non sequitur, but then sniffs and focuses on the glasses, vanishing the streaks and smudges with a single slow blink. 

“Thank you,” Ada says, feeling warm and staticy with the imprint of Hecate’s magic. Never mind that it’s frivolous and Ada could have done it herself.  
She smiles at Hecate over the now gleaming spectacles.  
Hecate picks up her untouched teacup, looking disgruntled but centered by the use of such precise magic. 

“Now,” Ada says, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention—”

“But I’m overreacting,” Hecate finishes. “I should’ve assigned them a few hundred lines and been done with it.” She shakes her head. “Merlin, I just shouted at them and vanished; I didn’t even give them lines—” She looks bewildered with herself. 

Ada aches at the sight. Perhaps, this is her fault. If Ada hadn’t given Agatha the run of the school for as long as she did, Hecate might not be so overstrung now. She’s got to set this right, but she has a feeling that blanket reassurances will be unwelcome in this moment. 

She lets her voice grow a tad stern. “That is not what I was going to say. I do not feel that you have been remiss in your duties, for many reasons, not least of which is that we don’t have any specific policies in place to address such displays of affection between students. But,” she says, stopping Hecate’s protest with one finger, “we soon will. We’ve gone without one long enough. I am headmistress, you are my deputy, and we are a team. We will figure out a solution for the well-being of the students together.” She shivers pleasantly with the realization that she believes every word. “I value your thoughts, even if we don’t agree.” 

“As I do yours, Headmistress,” Hecate says quietly. 

“I hear that you are concerned about girls breaking rules of decorum in the halls. You worry that it may affect the reputation of the school, which is on thin ice as it is. Correct?” 

Hecate nods. 

“I’ll add another concern,” Ada says, taking a breath. “The sexual health and safety of the girls. As you said, if they’re kissing, and they’re certainly not the first, they may be going...further. Or will soon.” Her ears start to heat up. She feels a bit silly. One would think that at her age, such embarrassment would be a thing of the past. 

Still, Hecate stiffens, owlish as ever. Ada reaches for a biscuit, finding herself inexplicably grateful for their shared awkwardness. 

“We must put a stop to it,” Hecate mutters, clinging to her own cup.

“In part, I agree,” Ada says. “I think it’s acceptable to draw the line at public displays of affection in the hallways, especially if things move into, shall we say, heavy petting territory. That being said, our capabilities in regulating what the girls choose to do are...limited, without invading their privacy. That’s especially important for the older girls, you know.” 

“You think we should just let them do whatever they want without consequence,” Hecate says tonelessly, as if Ada has just betrayed everything they hold dear. Ada feels her patience wear thin at her deputy’s stubbornness. 

“Once again, Hecate, I did not say that—”

“We mustn’t allow this to happen,” Hecate growls, uncharacteristically heedless. 

“Hecate—”

“There must be order! Two girls—”

Ada scoffs, standing to...she doesn’t know what...anything to diffuse the wild, sudden hurt that lurches through her. “For pity’s sake, Hecate, homosexuality is not forbidden by the Witches’ Code—”

“Then it might as well be!” Hecate snaps, springing up too. 

Ada feels protest after protest catch in her throat, jumbled and slowed to treacle by this betrayal, this sudden cruelty. 

It’s only when she hears the rattle of the cup in Hecate’s hands that Ada realizes Hecate isn’t just angry. Ada hasn’t seen her so fearful since she first came to Cackles a few years ago. 

“Oh Hecate,” she whispers, her throat dry, and sinks back into her chair. 

At this, Hecate’s face phases through a series of expressions that Ada cannot read. Taking a deep breath, she sets the saucer down and faces Ada. “I am sorry, Headmistress. I have offended you,” she says. She doesn’t sit, as if waiting for leave from Ada to do so. 

Perhaps Ada should’ve expected this. The issue of sexual behavior has fractured the British magical community for centuries. Most people just try not to discuss it. That’s been the standard way of dealing with it for the last half-century at least. She gathers herself. 

“Do you truly believe this, Hecate? Do you believe that it is wrong for witches to love other witches?” she asks, willing herself not to tear up or tremble, but to focus on the task at hand. 

Hecate looks past her. “To a degree,” she says, speaking quietly as though ashamed to say it aloud. “There is too much history, too much...precedent for me not to.” 

Ada thinks she might understand. The Hardbrooms aren’t the oldest of families, but they have always kept out of trouble. Hecate’s upbringing was certainly even more conservative than Ada’s own. The details she has confided over the past couple of years attest to that. 

Still, part of her needs to push Hecate further, to dare Hecate to defend her beliefs. She needs the release of it. “Please explain,” she says, and Hecate does. Eloquently. Hecate has a way of making terrible ideas sound beautiful. She speaks of the Code, of the many regulations that demarcate the boundaries between witches and wizards. She speaks of theology, of complementarity, of duty to the Craft, of bloodlines and tradition and authority. Her words flow increasingly smooth and confident, nothing like the sharp, fragmented prose of moments before. 

And that is how Ada knows that Hecate isn’t giving much thought to what she’s saying. This is a speech, a piece of rhetoric composed of rules drilled into her practically from birth, the dutifully memorized words of her elders. Anger burns in Ada’s chest on behalf of young Hecate, the thought of all that diligence and loyalty poured out for grownups who left her to languish with nothing but aphorisms. 

Hecate concludes with a near verbatim recitation of the Treatise on the Virtues of the Blade and Chalice, then falls silent, still standing with her hands at her sides.

“And yet,” Ada says, settling back in her chair, “all acts of love and pleasure belong to the Goddess.” 

Hecate frowns but nods. “It has been said.” 

Ada continues. “If my love for Craft and coven has led me to devote my life to this Academy, and if it pleases me to give my energy to my students, have I ruined my bloodline? Have I brought shame to witchkind? I haven’t had children of my own. Have I squandered my Gift?” 

“No!” Hecate replies immediately. “The love of one’s coven is noble.”

“But I haven’t married or had any children.” Ada shrugs, feeling a bit ornery. “My bloodline will probably end with me. Clearly, I’ve been irresponsible with my time.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” Hecate says, looking outraged. 

“No?” Ada asks. “I shouldn’t have settled down with a wizard?” 

Hecate shakes her head. “It isn’t that. You know I don’t think that, Ada.”

Ada looks at her over her glasses. “Well, Hecate?”

Hecate looks down at the floor. “One must have discipline.”

“Yes,” Ada replies. 

Hecate looks up, surprised at the simple answer. “Yes?” 

“Of course. I’d rather lounge in bed most mornings, but I have a community that I love waiting for me, and I am able to get up, so I get up. And you stay up,” she adds, lifting her cup in Hecate’s direction. 

“That isn’t the sort of discipline I was thinking of,” Hecate mumbles. 

“Very well,” Ada says. “But the way I see it, if discipline neglects love, and if it holds no promise of future pleasure, then what is it worth?” 

Hecate is silent. She has half a dozen responses at the tip of her tongue, Ada is sure. Such an expansive doctrine leaves plenty of room for twists of logic, the sort of thing Hecate would normally exploit during one of their verbal sparring sessions. 

She watches her struggle not to bring up Agatha. Grateful for this kindness but once again pricked by guilt, Ada finds herself at a loss as well. 

Fortunately, Pendell, in his wisdom, chooses to appear from behind a book pile. Padding over, he blinks a greeting to Ada and seats himself in front of Hecate, expectant. 

Ada beams. Her familiar has always had an excellent intuition. Hecate looks at them both with a soft, questioning face, then lowers herself back into her chair, whereupon Pendell hops noiselessly into her lap, pressing his face into the offered hand. 

“There is more than one way to interpret the demands of the Code, Hecate,” Ada says at last. “Forgive me for stating things that you already know. But magical opinion is changing on the subject of witches who love other witches. We once had trouble keeping our numbers up, I know, but we don’t have to worry about perpetuating the bloodline. The Great Wizard—”

“A show-off with something to prove,” Hecate says darkly, then freezes, fingers pausing in Pendell’s fur. “Forgive me.” 

Ada winces in return. Hecate may be right. The Great Wizard can re-write the Code line by line if he wishes, and they both know it. Thus far, Hellibore has been an ally of Cackles. It is partly by the weight of his authority that Agatha has agreed to stay away from the school, at least for a while. Still, he’s a wild card, and Merlin knows magical society has had its share of maverick Great Wizards tinkering with the Code. 

Execution has always been taboo in the magical community, as has dismemberment. Still, after the chaotic days of state-sponsored witch hunts, many families just wanted the order and protection that a Great Wizard, even a cruel one, could provide. And some Great Wizards love to throw their power around. Mortimer Monkshood was partial to transporting dissidents overseas, to Australia or the Americas, severing them from their covens. Some of them were sexually inverted or so-called gender deviants. No matter how valuable they were to their communities, they were still outsiders.

Ada thinks of those who must have perished flying over the ocean, drowned while trying to return. She suspects that Hecate has thought this history through many times over. 

“I understand,” she says. “We don’t know how this Great Wizard will be yet.”

Hecate smiles bitterly, dark eyes gleaming. She works to control her voice. “Perhaps if there was consistency…”

“I know,” Ada says. “Even as witches, our existence, my existence—the lives of witches who love each other, that is, can be fragile. That doesn’t mean that it is wrong to be that way—to love that way. It doesn’t deserve punishment. It never did.” Ada realizes what she has just implied and decides to make herself clear; it is a risk, but hardly more than she’s already taken. She seeks out Hecate’s eyes. “I am what I am. I don’t deserve to be punished.” 

Wide-eyed, Hecate gives a small, tight nod and looks down at Pendell. 

“I know that you value order,” Ada continues, as though what she has just said is perfectly ordinary. “You strive to live by your values and set a good example for the girls. It’s one of the things I most admire about you.” Indeed, Hecate’s jurisprudence is a true marvel, infuriating at times but evidence of a painstaking commitment to doing what is right. It has carried them through a few crises already. 

Hecate is blushing. Her eyes are bright with tears now, but she faces Ada directly. 

“I know I sound hypocritical, Ada. I haven’t followed every rule perfectly.” 

As touched as Ada is by Hecate’s humility, she doesn’t think she can bear any more confessions, not right now. 

“I know you have done so to the best of your ability, Hecate. I know that you...fear for the girls and only wish to see them flourish,” she says. “You abide by an exceptional code of conduct.” 

Hecate bows her head, busying herself with Pendell, who purrs richly. Ada risks another compliment. “Your heart is so extremely good, Hecate. I’m so glad to have you here,” she says honestly. 

Hecate swallows, eyes shifting around the room until they finally settle on Ada, who hardly dares to breathe. “I chose to be here, like you,” Hecate says haltingly. “I chose this life, even though it has meant...being where I wasn’t expected to be.” Ada nods, and she falls silent for several moments. Ada feels like she’s watching Hecate’s mind comb through every possibility, attempting to organize discordant information extempore and not quite succeeding. 

“May I suggest something?” Ada asks.

“If you wish,” Hecate says with an air of resignation. 

“Thank you,” Ada says, considering the frankest way to reassure without implying that Hecate should just throw her beliefs out the window. “As I said, I admire your commitment to your principles. Yet, I wonder,” she says, fixing Hecate with a direct look, “whether some of your rules might be worth re-writing. Re-visiting, at least. In light of current circumstances,” she tacks on, hoping she hasn’t gone too far, that Hecate will get her meaning. 

Hecate has schooled her face into neutrality, but she nods. “I will have to think about it, but you may be right. I have kept some ideas and discarded others.” She starts to stroke Pendell again. “Some of my current beliefs have been transplanted from another time in my life. I may need to...re-visit some things. That’s...all I can say for now,” she concludes, blushing even more. Well, that’s that. 

But Ada feels the spark of hope in her chest unfurl like a newborn phoenix. For Hecate Hardbroom, this is no small step. Ada wishes she could just reach out and take her hands, but she’s too far away, and now they’re staring at each other again. She runs her fingers through her hair. 

“Well…” She feels the unfamiliar sensation of floundering for something to say. 

“The girls,” Hecate contributes. “We need to create a fair policy for displays of affection and...romance.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ada says, seizing the lifeline. 

“We need to make the rules and consequences very clear,” Hecate says. 

Ada smiles sadly. “I believe our role as their teachers will be to strike a balance between helping them to acknowledge the consequences and giving them the freedom to explore who they’re growing up to be. They need to know that they can come to us if they are having problems.”  
Hecate looks a little apprehensive, and Ada has to fight down a smirk. 

“And we’ll need to revisit the idea of sexuality education. A seminar, perhaps.”

“A...seminar,” Hecate repeats, looking pensive. “Re-visit.” 

Ada nods. “When I was coming along, Miss Bat took us aside one day to talk about our cycles and how they might affect our magic. And taught us a chant about the power of the moon. We learned to brew pain relievers in potions that day as well. It took months for me to put two and two together.” She chuckles. “Mother considered something more comprehensive many years back but ultimately decided against it. Because having a class would acknowledge that the girls were developing sexually. Or even developing feelings for each other. And she did have a reputation to maintain in the witching community.” An image snaps through Ada’s mind, a scolded teenage Agatha, face streaked with the remnants of makeup before being transferred up to her room. The last holidays Agatha ever spent at home. 

“Well, I suppose parents don’t send their daughters to an all-girl school under the assumption that they’ll be distracted by such things,” Hecate says, attempting wryness. 

“Indeed,” Ada acknowledges. “But if we could fold it under health and safety—“ 

“With Miss Gullet? You should fire her,” Hecate says, lacing her hands over Pendell’s back. 

Ada raises her eyebrows. Her mind rebels against the idea of dismissing a teacher so late. “Let’s think about that after term.” 

“Very well,” Hecate concedes. “We wouldn’t want the Council to balk.” 

“True,” Ada says, smiling ruefully at the thought. “Do you think I can charm them?” 

Hecate looks at her. “Yes.” Then, she focuses on Pendell, re-settling in her arms. “If you want a class or...series...we’ll need to secure permission soon.” 

Ada dislikes the thought of seeking outside permission for a class in her own school, but she knows Hecate is right, especially after the Agatha debacle. “I have a remote meeting with them next week and can draft some ideas for presentation. I hate to ask, but do you think you could find a few days to dedicate to a class?” Taking in Hecate’s look of alarm, she hastens to add, “On the school calendar. I won’t ask you to teach it.” 

Hecate looks relieved. “I would if you asked, but I’d rather not.”  
Of course you would, Ada thinks, and hate every minute. Ada thinks through other options. “Do we know anybody in the Academy network who could teach it? Miss Pentangle has been giving some—”

“Not Miss Pentangle,” Hecate says with a note of finality. 

Ada chooses not to press. “Very well. I suppose I could teach it, though, well—” She feels herself blushing sheepishly and forges on. “What about Dimity?” 

“Perhaps,” Hecate says, mentally cataloging everything. 

“There’s so much to cover...reproduction, contraceptive charms, the importance of having a willing partner,” Ada muses. “Oh, and Miss Bat said something about wanting the older girls study Sappho’s surviving chants in Magical History...oh dear. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” 

Hecate nods, but her gentle smile takes the sting out of it. “I will add this to tomorrow’s staff meeting agenda and look at where we might find some time for...sexuality education seminars.” She hesitates. “Do you think I should punish the girls I caught in the hall?”

“I expect their mortification at having to face you tomorrow may be punishment enough,” Ada replies, “but I trust your judgment if you believe that further action is necessary.” 

“Thank you, Ada,” Hecate says, looking thoughtful. “Well, I must go.” She taps her pocket watch, and Pendell hops from her lap to the tea table as if on cue. “My night rounds start in a couple of minutes.” 

“Of course you must,” Ada says, starting to clear the tea service. She feels a twinge of regret at the prospect of Hecate’s leaving and nearly suggests they go together before thinking better of it. 

Hecate stands. “Would you like me to...complete any more tasks on my way out?” she asks, a little bit of familiar snark coloring her voice. 

Their eyes drift to the portrait. Ada decides she’ll leave it up. It’s history now. 

“I should clean this up myself. Although…” She crosses to the desk and picks up the box with Agatha’s nameplate, which has gone un-thought of for the duration of their meeting. “Would you take this with you? It seems to be distracting me from the task at hand.” 

“Of course, Headmistress,” Hecate says, barely even glancing at its contents as she takes it. 

“Thank you, Miss Hardbroom. Carry on,” says Ada, reinvigorated, confident that she’ll soon be able to return the office to a state of cheery untidiness. She and Hecate will be able to talk more later. 

The box tucked firmly under her arm, Hecate shimmers and disappears, leaving Ada staring at the ghost of her half-smile. Something brushes against Ada’s legs. She blinks at her familiar with lighthearted gratitude, not yet able to feel anything more complicated. “Things are going to be alright, Pendell,” she says, and sets to work.


End file.
